The Net 7.0
and simulate, correct, just simulate established attitudes. There is no novelty in it. We must understand once and for all that true artificial life will only be created when a machine or a device can generate its own individuality, without being a copy of the standards set by its developers, and that may go beyond what it has as memory. And while we can’t do this...”
//universities gathered/international meeting/broadcast/AI/
“... it's nice to talk with these simulations of people on certain sites of Internet. Some people do not like, but I think it's cool, actually I really like the simulated version of priests. I do not know, but I feel more comfortable talking with them, and make my confession. I think it's rather the fact of knowing I'm not talking to a real human being, but with a program that simulates a human personality. My sister is very fond of the virtual addresses of boyfriends. This is because she has a personality so strong that anyone can't take it, so she goes there and asks for a boyfriend who really can handle it...”
//MpgI/nocturnal/nBm/
“...bullshit of these people who want to invent people even when they don't want to contact the people that are already invented...”
//Lit/word to word/p/
“... Huh! Since we invented the first machine that the issue is quite simple, as put more and more of the human soul within it...”
//signal/opn/table/98372223894/operator/
“... I prophesy that the second season starts. From the hands of the bone miner will prove the most valuable nugget, and from fire of the cauldron of steel, blood vessels appeared in it, and then a brighter light than the sun will blow, and from iron oil tears flowed down...”
//predestination/chief – Radiant Spirit/signs/book 2/
“... is certainly a good chance to Hugh. Certainly. It's been too long and if we can’t really wake him up from the coma, there may be serious sequelae. It is an unusual experiment, but will be done safely, and the risks are minimal, less than the chance of sequelae due to the great time that Hugh is in a coma. So our team received the green light. The installation process should take four to six years, to ensure that we create a link to his anconscious (between unconscious and conscious) to attain a zone - which he did not know that he knows...”
//MrG/lab/teamA/psicho-Zero/brain/
“... Are we on right path? I know that these experiments are needed, but I get a bad feeling, you know, I'm thinking that maybe we are manipulating the personality, that's nothing comfortable, you know, indeed what I am is my personality, it's our essence, you know, and tinkering with the essence, isn't very comfortable. I'm a little uncomfortable with this whole situation. Each illusion that we add in programming Hugh makes me apprehensive, see the results that each change cause in his personality is like shape a soul, and I don't know, such thing about a soul, a personality, is a very strong thing for me, I can't easily give up of my myths, even as an applied scientist, and knowing this is a myth, but handle with it has been strange to me. I've been weird dreams. I know that Hugh is not like us, he is... you know. But still, I feel uncomfortable, I think I'm linked to the essence of Hugh, I can’t see it as a set of sub-programs, I see him as life and this has hindered things a lot...”
//TeamA/domAI/closed_email/Schemmelin_>_Feng/
“... we knew that this moment would come, though it took a good few centuries, but one day this moment would come. This is the time to put everything together, time to see how it goes, see what we did, and see if we can accomplish something that is a landmark in the history of mankind, the creation of a conscious being. In a nutshell: Let's turn on and see what will be...”
//SectorAdvanced/command/Informative-memorial/
“... may be alive, but to be alive you must be aware. Have the illusion that the universe is. Have the illusion that outside exists only because the inside exists...”
//UaccD/talk15/UberArthram/
“... all existence is a mere icon...”
//Library_of_figures/icons/search/icons>water?23F/1.903.787.937.602.834.984_occurrences_found/
“... we all think we exist and we are, but we might be otherwise. We are all wrong, as humans we need our contour, detached and individual, but perhaps is not be. Do not be fooled, do not think in terms of human, human shape, think in terms of life. See a colony for example, is a being who overcomes its elements...”
//AquaLab/wing3/directed_studies/watch/bacteria/
It is so comfortable the mausoleum - That was exactly what he was feeling. Hugh saw himself sitting on a bronze casket, filled with baroque ornaments, as hieroglyphics of an extinct civilization, indecipherable symbols, which also appeared on the walls. He was sitting there, his back arched way, and his head half bowed to right and down, an expression of fatigue. He was thirsty. He was inside this mausoleum. He wondering, almost dreaming, that this land that once covered him would be a kind of uterus warm and protective. Nothing else could reach him. He would be intangible. Nobody could touch his body. There would be no more body. No body. There he was inside the mausoleum. There was a single window through which came a yellow light, like the dying sun. A thin single window with a bow on top, only yellow light through it, a light that seems to kill the colors of things making them old, is throwing the world to the time that crumbles everything. A curtain, actually a dirty cloth, gray, torn like a rag fluttering in a movement that looked like a snake. Everything there was the smell of dust. Dust from hourglass. Hugh's eyes twinkled, seemed to take forever to blink, but he blinked. When this happened it was like sleeping and waking up again. He tried to thinking, but the ideas are not linked, sleep was stronger than turning ideas into ideas. He was not sure what he felt about, he felt that he should feel something, but he did not know how, it seemed important to feel something, but he could not control. It was like you need to do things but a very strong laziness prevented, but he could not feel remorse, or fear, or anguish, by lending himself to sleep. The mausoleum was so cozy. The yellow light was not good but it was so deliciously warm at skin, the prison was a protection, the death a rebirth.
The cross makes the light, the music makes the sounds. Hugh was sitting on the coffin into the mausoleum. It was still comfortable staying there. He ran his eyes over the interior of the mausoleum, looking at the coffin in which he sat. After so long that seemed centuries, his hand began to slowly slide down that coffin so full of symbols that he do not understand. There was the body, his body. The cross. The cross was the letter "T". The letter "T" had friends, and soon the images had names. The cross was the cross, was not only image but an image that made sense, which had a memory in your mind. Now ideas could be linked to other ideas.
? Hello! - Someone tried to communicate, someone was out there, not in the mausoleum, a sound but no body. Hugh did not understand that he should have some reaction, he not understood that he should feel something about, he was motionless.
The mausoleum was so good; there was no night, neither cold. It had that pleasant tiredness which always led to falling asleep. If there wasn't cold, there was no pain also, neither fears. But now the awareness that there is no body was bad, because not being the body is like to be dead. Why this mausoleum? It was a question, the first of him. Was there something more than the mausoleum? Where had that voice that tried to say a greeting? Was there someone else besides him? Is there somebody else? So he was not whole but part, what was he? That hand that slipped over the coffin, that was he? On the coffin, that was he? Where the cross was if he was not ran his hand on the cross but the cross was there? Is the cross into him? But he was not the cross.
? Hello!
Hugh knew that there was someone calling to him. Hugh knew that Hugh was, even though he did not know his own name. It was him. Too good sitting there, it was so nice not seeing things, the silence was as good as good was the vacuum of ideas, and the emptiness of feelings. Good not having morning, afternoon or night. But now he could see himself. There were limits, space, interior and exterior. And time passed again through the hourglass that now was fixed, the dus
t around it was no longer motionless, was a storm in the desert.
? Hello!
Hugh bothered with such greetings. There was discomfort now, and discomfort leads to actions, and actions lead to critical and planning, and victories and sins, guilt and disappointment. There was now a pain to predict pain. There is a pain of wanting to not feel pain. The mausoleum is no longer good. The warm light is now bothering. The time stop is a lie. Never be able to forget yourself anymore. Always see his own shadow, seems to be behind the own eyes. All things now are linked, the cross is death, fear of the grave, the hope of life after death. The cross is the light, the strength to fight. The cross is a geometrical figure, the letter "T", a sword, the sign of holiness. The cross is unknown to Buddha. Ideas link with ideas, and connect with memories of history of each one of them.
Through the hourglass fall ideas and feelings, below are which explains and sustains, above are innumerable possibilities, and a hole in the middle. He was he, and now the universe exists and he needed to order everything in the universe. He was alive and could no longer to live sitting in the mausoleum. He was no longer sitting on the coffin, the coffin had gone. Those